A Touch of Confidence (15 page)

“And you swear not to change your mind, even if I break out in song after?”

She grimaced. “Can you maybe save the song for another time, just so you don’t ruin the moment completely?”

It was Jack’s turn to give her request some thought. “Okay then. But just this once, you understand?”

She sighed dramatically. “Okay then. Just this once.”

His eyes lit up. “Well then Miss Jones,
I know no ways to mince it in love, but directly to say…I love you.
”

About the Author

Apart from her family and friends, Jess Dee loves two things: romance and food. Is it any wonder she specializes in dee-liciously sexy romance? Jess loves hearing from readers. You can email her at
[email protected]
or find her at
www.jessdee.com
.

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Circle of Friends

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A Question of…

A Question of Trust

A Question of Love

Fire

Winter Fire

Hidden Fire

Three of a Kind

Going All In

Raising the Stakes

Full House

Bandicoot Cove Anthology

Exotic Indulgence

Island Idyll

Speed

See You in My Dreams

Colors Of Love

Bandicoot Cove: The Wedding

Afternoon Rhapsody

Office Affair

Print Anthologies

Risking It All

Three’s Company

Red Hot Winter

Three of a Kind

Tropical Desires

Coming Soon:

Print Anthologies

Red Hot Weekend

Bandicoot Cove: Tropical Haze

Rhythm Of The Night

Two To Tango

When old flames unite, the heat is on!

Where There’s Smoke

© 2012 Jayne Rylon

A
Two to Tango
Story

Kyana Brady never intended to return to small-town life in upstate New York, but reality doesn’t give a damn about plans. She dropped everything to care for her dying aunt. Now that Rose is gone, Kyana realizes something else has changed—her priorities. Her high-paid, higher-stress law career no longer holds any appeal.

While debating her future, an insomnia-driven stroll turns into a desperate dash to save Rose’s elderly friend, Benjamin, from his burning house. And he’s always believed one good turn deserves another. So the old man rewards Kyana’s bravery with a little meddling in her love life.

After Ben’s great-nephew Logan witnesses his childhood friend’s bravery on the news, he rushes home to help his uncle rebuild. But before his hammer hits the first nail, sparks are flying. The heat between him and Kyana melts old affection into a completely new—and combustible—relationship.

Before they have a chance to discover how hot their love will burn, another disaster threatens to separate them forever. After all, they say bad luck comes in threes…

Warning: A love affair that’s been ten years in the making is sure to be hot enough to scorch. And everyone knows, where there’s smoke there’s fire.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Where There’s Smoke:

Logan snagged a plush towel off the rack and wrapped her in its softness. He buffed her arms and legs, making sure not to press any sore spots too hard, then wrapped a smaller cloth around her hair before attending to himself with a handful of swipes.

When he turned to put the towel in the hamper, Kyana plucked his clothes from the floor. She arranged his shirt over the shower door then dug into his jeans, rescuing his faux-leather wallet. He didn’t stop her fast enough.

His face heated, glowing as red as an overheated saw blade when she removed his ID and the last three crumpled singles he had left to his name. Instead of laughing at his pathetic life savings, she flattened the trio of bills on the counter and propped the cheap pleather open to allow air to circulate through the barren folds.

She distracted him from his discomfort when she peeked up from beneath long, if not curled, lashes. The raw vulnerability he spied in her eyes made him feel a little more on even footing. “Logan…”

“Yeah?”

“Will you stay with me tonight?”

“I don’t have anywhere else to go, Ky.”

“You’re welcome to stay as long as you need.” She didn’t pry, just nodded, though her shoulders seemed to slump a little. Avoiding looking at him, she scooted past, into her bedroom.

“Hey, wait. That didn’t sound right.” He scrubbed his hand through his hair, thinking of the countless fuck-ups he’d made when it came to her. All the times he’d said the wrong thing. Or had been too afraid to try to find the perfect thing.

No more of that bullshit. Time to man up.

Crossing the threshold to her sanctuary, he took a gamble. “It wouldn’t matter. You know, if I had a hundred homes. This is where I want to be tonight. I’m only sorry I wasn’t here earlier. You shouldn’t have had to deal with this, all of it, on your own. It’s been a long-ass time, but I’m still the same guy who was your friend. I haven’t forgotten how you always had my back. Now let me get yours.”

From a hand-glazed dresser, she withdrew a gossamer garment intended to drive men insane with lust and admiration. Mission accomplished when it fluttered into place around her ideal form, leaving a surprising string of pink, white and red cherry blossoms exposed on her shoulder. He wouldn’t have expected her to go for tattoos, but the artwork suited her. It made his cock ten times harder.

“I’ve got things under control.”

“I don’t doubt that.” He watched her slip beneath the lush duvet and ridiculously soft-looking sheets. “But you can lean on me tonight. Today. Whatever the hell it is out there. And always. I hope you understand that.”

He considered getting in bed with his underwear on but didn’t want to risk the cheap black dye staining her fancy linens. With a shrug, he shimmied out of the sticky fabric, tossed it over his shoulder into the bathroom then strode to the bed.

Kyana’s laser-beam stare tracked his every movement until he obscured her view with the duvet, staying on top of the sheet she rested under. He wasn’t some kind of creeper who’d try to molest her when she was down…no matter how desperately the primal parts of his brain encouraged him to try.

They both lay on their backs, staring at the ceiling for a while. A chasm at least a foot wide separated their tense bodies in her luxurious bed. When he couldn’t stand it another second, he slid his hand beneath her shoulders and tugged. “This is stupid. We’re adults now. Come here.”

Thankfully, she didn’t fight. She laid her head on his shoulder and curled up to his side, with only the thin sheet separating them.

Logan decided it was time to go all or nothing. Lying wasn’t his style any more these days than it had been in high school. Hiding his feelings then had almost killed him.

“Sweet dreams, Kyana-chan.” He tipped up her chin and claimed her mouth in a brief kiss. Brushing his lips against hers, he relished her taste and the complete surrender she offered him. Resisting the urge to plunder, he attempted to illustrate the tumble of emotions rolling around in his guts. Slow, tender and lingering contact seemed to do the trick.

When they parted, they both were breathless.

“Welcome home,” she rasped.

She’s got the rhythm, but he’s got all the right moves.

Ballroom Blitz

© 2012 Lorelei James

A
Two to Tango
Story

After years on the road, rock drummer Jon White Feather is home from tour to reassess his music career. When his shy niece begs him to take a ballroom dancing class, Jon agrees, aware he’s not Fred Astaire material. Still, it stings when his sexy-hot instructor—who makes his heart do the cha-cha—deals his ego a low blow: he has no rhythm.

Maggie Buchanan is doing everything to make ends meet since her IT career fizzled, including teaching couples dancing at the community center. She’s prepared for anything—except her immediate attraction to the bad boy rocker who doesn’t know his right foot from his left.

As Jon sets out to prove he can rock his body—and hers—their sexual chemistry burns a path across the dance floor, straight to the bedroom. And Maggie wasn’t expecting a man with limited dance skills would know exactly how to sweep her off her feet.

Warning: Sweet and hot…this couple knows how to bump and grind.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Ballroom Blitz:

But the second night was more of the same torture. Jon was hapless and Raven tried not to act annoyed or mortified about the extra attention they received from the instructors because of his screw ups.

However, Jon certainly didn’t mind having Maggie’s soft curves pressed against him as she walked him through the dance steps. The woman was an enigma; confidently giving instructions to the entire class and yet blushing so prettily when they were pressed body to body. He was actually sorry when class ended.

After the rest of the students took off, Jon noticed Raven wasn’t racing out the door, but in deep conversation with Seth. He wandered over to where Maggie sat on the bench, changing shoes.

“So it is true,” he said, sitting sideways on the bleachers beside her.

Maggie glanced up. “What is true?”

“There is such a thing as putting on your dancing shoes.”
Lame, Jon.

“Different types of dancing shoes for different dances. Probably like you use different drums for different parts of a song?”

“You’d be correct.” He angled forward. “So while I’ve got you alone…give it to me straight. Am I failing class?”

The corners of her lips curled into a smile even as she remained focused on buckling her shoe. “This isn’t a pass-fail situation. I’m giving you an A for extra effort.” Maggie’s eyes met his briefly before her attention drifted to his arms. Her gaze started at his wrist and moved up to his bicep. “I’ll admit I’ve been admiring your cool tattoos during class.”

“Do you have any tats?”

“No. Never had much chance to see artwork designs up close to see what my options are.”

He held his arms out. “Go ahead and take a closer look if you want. See if there’s anything you like.”
Feel free to touch as much as you want.

Her eyes clearly broadcast
I want
, even if her alluring mouth stayed closed.

The first tentative touch on his forearm was potent as an electric charge. He held himself still, willing that charge not to travel straight to his dick.

Her cheeks were flushed. Her blue eyes bright. Tendrils of reddish-blond hair had escaped from her tight bun, tempting Jon to loosen it completely and crush the soft stands in his hands. Or smooth the strands back into place just to touch that creamy-looking skin. Maggie unsettled him. She was wholesome looking and a little shy—not his usual type. So his immediate attraction to her was baffling. Not unwelcome, just confusing. Question was, did she feel the same pull?

Yes, if he went by the way her hand trembled when she touched him.

When her soft fingertip drifted over the crease of his arm, he bit back a growl. Oblivious to his response, she continued the northerly progression, one hand clamped around his wrist, the other hand driving him out of his mind with a mix of innocent curiosity and overt sensuality.

“Are these marks tribal symbols?” she asked, continually caressing the same section of black swirls and scrolls.

“I told a buddy of mine who’s an artist I wanted markings with a tribal feel, but more artistic. So they don’t mean anything specific.”

“So it’s wearable art that’s unique to you.” Her thumb swept across the stylized barbed wire motif on his bicep. “Even if the design was used on another person it wouldn’t look the same. Your skin coloring gives it a different dimension. As does your musculature.” She ran a fingernail on the underside of his arm. “Your biceps and triceps are amazing.”

“I can’t take credit for that.”

“I’m pretty sure you weren’t born with all these muscles.” Maggie looked at him, as if startled by what she’d said.

When she attempted to remove her hand, Jon placed his palm over hers. “Thank you. Most of the time I get grief for the tats. I’m happy to hear a beautiful woman appreciates them.”